


Going Greek

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Exhibitionism, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mildly Fluffy, Smut, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: New pledge Clarke wants to join her mother's sorority. But there's a catch, and it involves Bellamy Blake.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 349
Collections: The 100 Kinkmeme Round 2020, anonymous





	Going Greek

It was always inevitable. If there was ever any doubt in Clarke's mind about whether or not she would participate in Greek life at Arkadia University, one flip through her baby album would straighten up any confusion. Her mother Abigail Griffin had belonged to Kappa Alpha Theta as an undergrad before going on to Harvard Medical School and becoming a highly respected neurosurgeon. As a freshman legacy, Clarke would naturally follow in her footsteps. There was even a photo of herself as a chubby-cheeked infant with a tuft of blonde curls on top of her head wearing a FUTURE KAPPA ALPHA THETA PRINCESS onesie. So, yeah, it was pretty much fated.  
  
But the fact that the moment had finally arrived was what had Clarke a little spooked. The sorority house reminded her of the Clue mansion as she weaved around her partying classmates and narrowly avoided a guy spilling beer on her white dress. There was a library with floor-to-ceiling wood-paneled shelves that Professor Plum would've been proud of and a freaking conservatory full of roses climbing up trellises. Right now, it was mostly dark and full of Alpha Phi Alpha boys grinding against girls to an Ariana Grande song she couldn't remember the name of. A lanky kid named Jasper was dancing on the coffee table. She could make out the side profiles of Miller and Murphy on the porch through the wide windows framing the tangerine sunset. They were probably getting high if the rumors were true. Anya Woods, the Kappa president, had said something about the guys needing to be here for her initiation. That it was a tradition. Yet she had no idea why or what their purpose might be. It seemed a little unusual to have boys present.   
  
As a new pledge, she was vaguely aware of what was expected of her. Look pretty and do as she was told. To be honest, it wasn't much different than her home life. Sighing as she made her way back to the living room which doubled as the dance floor, Clarke pulled a Mike's Hard Lemonade out of an icy cooler on the floor and brought the bottle to her lips. If she had to participate in some bizarre ritual tonight to prove herself to these girls, she might as well be tipsy. She'd just dropped the empty bottle into the recycling bin when she heard a familiar voice.   
  
"Clarkie!" came the gush of someone right behind her.   
  
She turned and found herself blinking up at a dirty blonde sophomore named Harper. She'd met her during the recruitment process, and they'd had a couple of dinners together.   
  
"Hi!" Clarke smiled back.   
  
"Excited about tonight?"   
  
Clarke shrugged and hoped she looked casual and not nervous. "Yeah... just wish I knew what was going to happen."   
  
Harper winked mischievously at her. "What fun would there be in that?" She squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You'll have a good time. Plus, we've all done it. It's the price you pay to be one of us."   
  
She laughed at Clarke's confused expression. Then her eyes flicked to a place behind Clarke's shoulder, and the new pledge turned slightly to track the action. Anya was watching them closely, arms crossed in a corner, whispering to a tall, dark-haired girl Clarke recognized as the sorority's vice president. She had a strange name like Acne or Ash. It was on the tip of her tongue...   
  
"Don't worry about any of it! Just drink up and come on!" Harper encouraged brightly, breaking into Clarke's thinking. Her new friend pulled her by the hand farther into the crowd of warm bodies. "Come dance with me and Roma."   
  
Clarke was used to doing what was expected of her. As the daughter of a state senator, she was well-versed in figuring out what made powerful people tick and keeping them happy. So she let herself go, swaying her hips provocatively despite the tight, stretchy bottom of her dress. Soon she was even having fun, shimmying down toward the ground with Roma and letting Harper spin her around like a top. It felt good to be light and loose. When one of the Alphas let off a rainbow glitter bomb out of nowhere with a loud pop, she threw back her head and laughed, letting the stuff shimmer on her biceps and bare shoulders.   
  
Clarke felt eyes on her as an Alpha boy - Finn whom she'd met at a cookout during orientation weekend - held out his hands to her to dance. She accepted with a quick grin but began furtively looking around the room for the source of the focused energy. A minute later, she landed on a dark pair of eyes staring back at her from a face she knew all too well. Clarke pivoted her attention back to Finn's wild dance moves swiftly, taking a deep breath. When she chanced a glance back in the direction of the kitchen, Bellamy Blake was absorbed in whatever the Kappa vice president - Xray? Enemy? - was saying to him. She was flipping her glossy waves behind her shoulder and brushing glitter off his tan forearm. He grinned at her with a dazzlingly white set of teeth and then touched her shoulder as she moved past him toward where Anya was beckoning her. Clarke sucked air in through her nose and tried to ignore Bellamy as he resumed watching her again. But her throat seemed to close a fraction, and her stomach suddenly felt very unsettled. She swallowed and battled the sensation down. It felt too much like nervous crush energy for her liking. Bellamy ran a hand through his tangled curls and raised his beer in her direction like some kind of salute. The light label of the bottle stood out against the black of his shirt.   
  
Bellamy was her best friend Octavia's older brother, though she hadn't seen him much since he'd started at Ark U. The last time they'd crossed paths was actually in the Blake's kitchen at the start of the summer when Octavia looked up from her phone long enough to suggest Bellamy take Clarke to her cousin's wedding when she'd been standing there complaining about being dateless for the occasion. She'd watched Bellamy's jaw clench and the way he'd spooned a big bite of cereal into his mouth, nearly choking on it in his haste to avoid having to answer. She'd practically run from the room in embarrassment, seeking refuge in the downstairs bathroom for the next ten minutes.  
  
The small detail that she'd had a crush on him ever since she was 13 (it was the summer she got her first period and noticed how good his chest looked when he went swimming with her and Octavia) was a minor one she'd prefer to forget at this point. Now a senior, he was president of the Alphas - that much she was sure about. She tried to shrug off the way his gaze seemed to burn a path right up her body. It was nothing, it had to be nothing. Yes, he'd taught her how to roller blade and given her driving lessons - mocking her the whole time, mind you - but that was ages ago. He was probably just itching to go all big brother on her now that she was in college. No doubt he assumed she'd be a wild child because he knew her parents kept her on a short leash. Octavia was still a senior at their old high school, so he was missing his chance to overprotect his actual sister. Clarke knew it was probably killing him. From the time they were little, Octavia had always been Bellamy's responsibility.   
  
Someone was saying something close by.   
  
"Huh?" Clarke looked up at Finn, blue eyes wide with surprise.   
  
His smile was full of humor and a tinge of lust. Cupping his hands around her ear, he leaned in and half-shouted, "I said are you excited about becoming a Kappa tonight?"   
  
"Absolutely," Clarke batted her eyelashes at him in a winning manner. It sounded like the right answer.   
  
Someone tall and willowy was at her elbow. Clarke found herself looking at the intimidating eye makeup of Anya and the sequins of her emerald halter top. "Your initiation starts in twenty minutes," she said, all business. "The room's been prepared. I know you won't let us down."   
  
Clarke's eyebrows crinkled in confusion but she nodded just the same. "Ok, thanks. I'll be ready."   
  
For what, she had no fucking idea. But she was a Griffin, which meant she could handle it. She held her chin a little higher and smoothed out her dress over her thighs.   
  
Anya winked at her. (She had no idea Anya was capable of winking). "Atta girl, Griffin! That's the kind of spirit we need more of around here." Then with a quick press of her bony fingers into the crook of Clarke's elbow, she whipped out her phone and took off into the crowd.   
  
Exactly twenty minutes later, someone slipped a thick blindfold around Clarke's eyes and with one hand on her waist and another on her shoulders, started leading her across the room toward the hallway and then up the creaking stairs. There were shouts and whoops behind her with each step. The noise rose and seemed to follow her, surrounding her like a fog. Her heart beat faster as the Kappa cheer began drunkenly in the background. "Right through here. Stand here by the dresser," her guide uttered her first words at last. It was Bree, another sophomore like Harper. Clarke's fingers flew out like scuttling spiders in search of the wood's smooth surface.   
  
"Remove her blindfold," she heard Anya command loudly.   
  
Darkness became hazy light all at once. She was in the house's master bedroom with its four-poster bed and floor-length burgundy curtains. Anya stood at the foot of the bed next to the other brunette - Echo the name finally came to her - as well as Bree, Monroe, Fox, Emori, Raven and a gang of other girls whose names she didn't know. Harper was right beside her with a bracing hand placed on her shoulder blades. Clarke could smell her floral perfume. Meanwhile, Miller was hanging out in the back by the windows with his arms crossed. Murphy, Jasper and his best friend Monty, Finn, Atom and Dax were the boys whose names stood out to her when her eyes swept the room frantically. Then someone cleared his throat behind her, and Clarke practically jumped, twisting her head to the left and realizing Bellamy was there too. Plus there were other Alphas, but the muddling effects of alcohol was making it impossible to figure out who they were. The walls felt like they were pressing in on her.   
  
"What's going on?" Clarke demanded more bravely than she felt.   
  
Anya stepped forward.   
  
"Clarke Griffin, welcome to your initiation into the most prestigious sorority in America, Kappa Alpha Theta. We can't wait to welcome you and call you a sister forever. But first," she paused for dramatic effect, holding out her arms wide, and the crowd began to murmur. "Your task."   
  
She pointed to the pure white linens on the tall bed.   
  
"To become a Kappa tonight, you have to get fucked by one of the Alpha boys while we all watch." 

xxx

Ice water buckets might as well as have just crashed over Clarke's head.   
  
"You can't be serious."   
  
Anya frowned.   
  
"I assure you I am. We've all done it, even your mother. The choice of whom to pick is entirely up to you."   
  
Clarke's eyes flicked back across all the boy's faces in the room, but she did it too fast and they blurred together. All she knew was Bellamy's had come last. It was full of both freckles and an unreadable intensity. His nostrils were larger than usual like he was sucking in a lot of air while his tongue came out to wet his lips once, then twice. She stared at him, frozen. How could he have known and never told her? How could her mother have known and never told her? This was ... absurd. Inconceivable. Barbaric. Bellamy's shoulders leaned forward a fraction toward her like he was telepathically absorbing her screaming thoughts.   
  
"Breathe," he mouthed almost imperceptibly, and she did.   
  
The air came in like a ragged gasp, harsh against her lungs. The second time she attempted it it was more even. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. Her brain felt like it was going on lock down. Harper patted her back reassuringly. Could she actually go through with this? But risking Abby's wrath and derailing her life plans were quickly looming up in her mind as the worse options. This was literally one of the most powerful groups in America. These women could help set her up for life or make it a living hell. She lifted her long, blonde hair off her neck and brought it around her shoulder in an attempt to cool down. The movement brought the attention of Cillian, yes, that was definitely his name. He was in her european history class. He leered at her, eyeing the bodice of her low-cut dress and grinning.   
  
In her peripheral vision, Bellamy folded his arms over his chest. When she glanced at him, he was staring straight ahead at Echo and Anya as if this was a meeting about who was cleaning which room of the house. You know what? This was college. She was supposed to make stupid mistakes. She only lived once and these were the best four years she'd never remember and all that other bullshit she saw printed on T-shirts at the beach during spring break. Clarke refused to chicken out in front of all these people. They'd never let her forget it, and four years was a long time to deal with being harassed.   
  
"Fine," she snapped. "I'll do it."   
  
Echo stepped forward and braced a hand on the bed pillar nearest her. Clarke's attention shot back to her when she began to speak.   
  
"Excellent," her smile was thin-lipped. "We assumed you and Collins would work because you seemed cozy earlier, but of course it's your decision."   
  
Finn shifted closer to her, nodding at her hopefully. For some reason, bile was rising in the back of her throat. Panic bells started going off. A stranger. She was going to have to allow a practical stranger to climb on top of her on the too-white bed in front of all these people and thrust his cock inside her for the first time ever. She was going to bleed on the sheets, maybe even cry out in pain. Some random boy was going to have his tongue in her mouth and his hands on her hips and thighs. These people were going to see her breasts and her ass and the hair between her legs. This was a lot. A lot, a lot. It couldn't be him, her brain yelled. Not him. Not like this. Not now. Not...  
  
"No," a deep voice broke the silence in the room. Raven twisted her neck so fast that her chestnut ponytail nearly smacked Fox in the face.   
  
Clarke didn't have to look to know it was Bellamy's large hand on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. "She's mine."   
  
Clarke could feel the imprint of each and every one of his fingers. There was mild heat rolling off his body, and the faint scent of cigarettes came off his shirt. Echo narrowed her kohl-lined eyes, but then the wolf whistles and yelps of the Alpha boys were so rowdy, they tugged Clarke's attention away from the chapter vice president.   
  
"That's what I'm talking about!" Dax thumped his own chest.   
  
"My man, getting the job done!" Atom saluted him.   
  
Anya scowled and threw her arms in the air as general chaos broke out.   
  
"Shut up!" she yelled before addressing the man across from her.   
  
"Look, Blake. I know you're the Alpha president, and maybe that makes you think you've got some kind of special privileges or whatever. But this isn't a monarchy, and you're not the king who gives orders. Clarke has her own free will, and this ritual doesn't work unless the pledge picks her own partner."   
  
Clarke was too distraught to be touched by all the feminism flying through the air.   
  
"Fine."   
  
Bellamy's fingers left her back and skimmed the skin of her forearm, sending up goosebumps everywhere flesh touched flesh. He ended by cupping her hand loosely. He leaned down and tucked some bright yellow strands behind her ear before his mouth was near her flushed cheek. "Clarke," he said so softly she knew only she could hear. Bree was staring not daggers, but machine guns at her. "Will you agree to please let me be the one who fucks you tonight?"   
  
Her mouth opened and closed. Her throat was so very dry. Bellamy looked a cross between amused and sincere. This was so completely surreal that she pinched herself to ensure she wasn't dreaming. This sorority had managed to ruin five year's worth of all her screwed-up little fantasies about him in a few sentences. They could never happen now. No dinner dates or hikes through the woods while he held her hand to help her across a rocky stream. No Netflix on his couch and no trips to the beach. But wasn't it worse if he saw her being used like a sex doll by some other guy? Won't she be a real object then?   
  
"Yes," she whispered before the fire erupted over her neck.   
  
Bellamy turned toward Anya and placed his hands on his hips. "She said yes."   
  
"Can you fucking blame her?" she heard Roma whisper.   
  
"All right," Anya nodded. "Whenever you're ready."   
  
Bellamy laughed darkly.   
  
"I want everyone to get the fuck out."   
  
Echo's answering cackle was higher but sinister enough to match his well.  
  
"Get over yourself, Blake. You know how this works. Just because you've never personally participated in our little ritual as president doesn't mean you get to hold yourself to different standards."   
  
The words took a minute to click together in Clarke's mind. Never participated. Never participated. Never participated.   
  
"I always wondered why you turned me down, Blake," Raven called out, looking him up and down appraisingly. "I guess you like those curves."   
  
Mortified, Clarke stared at her feet, but Bellamy slid a heavy arm around her shoulders.   
  
"Nah, he wouldn't touch me either," Emori chimed in. "And I'm not stick thin like you."   
  
"Maybe he only gets off on blondes," Murphy supplies.   
  
"He wouldn't touch me," Bree argued back.   
  
"All of you shut the fuck up," Bellamy growled suddenly. His expression softened when he looked down at her. "Get up on the bed, Princess. Under the covers. You don't have to give these jackasses a free show."   
  
"I thought that's exactly what this was," Echo simpered as they walked by her.   
  
Clarke started to shake, but then Bellamy moved in front of her.   
  
"Wait," his broad torso blocked her from view of the others.   
  
Very carefully, he bent at the knees, sliding his palms against her bare thighs and working them upward until his fingers were wrapped around the sides of her flimsy lace underwear. She was going to pass out. He pulled the scrap of pink fabric down to pool at her ankles, chocolate eyes never leaving hers. Her heart hammered in her throat as he helped her step out of both the underwear and her brown leather flats.   
  
"That's all you need to take off." He rose and tapped lightly at the curve of her ass, nodding toward the bed.   
  
The murmuring and conversations swirled up again in double time, but Clarke couldn't focus on any of that. She was too busy watching Bellamy kick off his shoes and tug his shirt over his head, throwing it on the dresser near Harper. He unbuckled his jeans and slid those off too, leaving him in navy boxers and nothing else. From somewhere near the bathroom door, a melody rose up. It sounded a hell of a lot like "Earned It."   
  
Clarke never knew her skin could all-tingle. Anya tossed a few condoms onto the bed side table. Clarke heard the tiny thud they made as if a canon went off next to her head.   
  
And then Bellamy was pulling back the blankets and climbing delicately over her, both his knees on either side of one of hers pressing deep into the mattress. She shivered when his knuckles skimmed her cheek, before dragging a little on her lower lip. The world behind him melted into a haze.   
  
"Here, who we are and who we need to be to survive are two very different things." She knew he was talking about the sex, but it was like he was trying to tell her something more. "Time to slay your demons, Princess."

xxx

The one thing she knew for certain was that absolutely nothing about being this close to Bellamy Blake felt like a sacrifice. Because she had spontaneously lost all control of her tongue, she reached up and cradled his freckled cheek in her palm and hummed very quietly when he leaned into it.   
  
"You could never be the demon, Bellamy."   
  
His dark eyes appeared pained in the dim light, but he turned his head and pressed a dry kiss to her palm. It sent fissures down her bare arm.   
  
"How do you know?"   
  
He seemed genuinely curious to hear her answer and arched over her small body more fully. His palms bore his weight on either side of her waist, but he moved so that his knees now brushed against the outer skin of her own.  
  
Clarke skidded a shaking hand up the trail of black hair running down the middle of his muscled chest until she discovered his heart pounding strong and healthy below his breastbone.   
  
"Experience," she whispered.   
  
"Are you going to fuck her or what?" The disgruntled shout came from the direction of Roan, but Clarke couldn't be sure.   
  
Clarke lost her breath when Bellamy nosed against her jawbone in answer, peppering kisses there, only pausing for a moment to throw up his middle finger. She squirmed a little when he dropped more of his weight on her.   
  
"Are you ok?" he murmured along the neckline of her dress.   
  
"Yep." Her voice was more high pitched than she'd ever heard it.   
  
Her body felt scalded everywhere she touched him. Yet it had suddenly erupted with a need for more. More of his fingers casually stroking up her thigh. More of the bruise mark he was sucking along the top swell of her breast. More of the back muscles under his tawny skin gliding under the swoop of her fingers.   
  
"I'm really sorry about this," he mumbled when he had left a purplish bruise mark on the creamy flesh above her bra cup. "But I couldn't watch someone else..."  
  
In the distant, muddled background, she heard Echo complain that she couldn't hear what they were saying. Clarke's head spun from the drinks and the adrenaline and the pure pleasure of the brush of Bellamy's thumb against her nipple. It made her snap up into him like some kind of battery-operated jack-in-the-box. Maybe his volunteering to fuck her was just a way to avoid feeling guilty later for a complete stranger taking her virginity. He had to know she hadn't slept with anyone else.   
  
Screwing up her courage, she ran an unsteady hand into the black locks above his ear. "Bellamy," she whispered, rolling again as his fingers began swirling baby circles into her sensitive inner thigh. He was so close to the heat of her pussy that it clenched on its own. "Bellamy, I'm really glad it's you."   
  
He paused, dilated pupils landing on hers and seeming to beg an answer to a question he hadn't asked yet.   
  
"Can I kiss you?"   
  
She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. Bellamy was seconds away from literally being inside her in a room full of onlookers and he wanted to know if he could kiss her?   
  
Clarke spread her legs open wider and pulled him toward her by the elastic band of his boxers. Her gaze found his nicely shaped lips and she nodded, hopefully not too eagerly. The press of his mouth to hers incited bliss in her blood. She opened to him immediately and tasted the hard cider he'd been drinking downstairs.   
  
The strains of what might be Knockin' on Heaven's Door swelled up, and Clarke's body burned. She thought she heard Murphy say something about this not being some rom-com, her eyes popping open at the sound of his loud voice. But Bellamy turned her head gently back in his direction.  
  
"Don't worry about him. Don't worry about any of them. This is a private show."   
  
Clarke tried to laugh because it loosened the knots of anxiety in her stomach a fraction. Bellamy's lips brushed over hers again and she leaned up into the kiss like she was hungry for it.   
  
"Because you don't want them to judge your performance? Or ... mine?" Surely hers would receive a horrible score.   
  
"No," Bellamy grunted forcefully, sinking his teeth down into the meaty flesh where her shoulder met her neck. "You have to know you're more important to me than all these idiots put together. I want it to be good for you, Princess."   
  
Her heart shredded up into confetti bits, and she let out a full groan when his hand snaked beneath her to squeeze at her ass. Her dress was rucking up, bringing her wet pussy closer to the girth of his cock with every roll of his hips. She had to know? Had to know? What the hell? All the blood must have been rushing from her brain at once. There was no universe where Bellamy could like her as anything more than his sister's friend, than a comfortable piece of his growing up years. No, no, she was confused to think he meant anything more by it.   
  
"Bell," she latched onto her shoulders with her nails. If nothing else, he needed to understand this part even as her own hips moved wantonly against his.   
  
"What?"   
  
"You know I haven't ... that you'll be the first, right?"   
  
He smirked down at her, dropping a quick peck to her lips before cupping her breast strongly in his hand and making her mouth fall open.   
  
"If I have my way, I'm gonna be the last your whole time here."   
  
She grinned, she couldn't help it. This was sensory overload. She could always blame that for her foolish behavior. Desperate times and all the rest of it. She rubbed her tiny hand up his side sweetly and massaged the back of his neck. He grinned back.   
  
Clarke mewled when his fingers skimmed over her damp heat. "Can I touch you, Princess? I have to prep you or--" he flushed this time.   
  
"What?" her thumb ran over a curve of freckles next to his nose.  
  
"Or it'll really hurt. I'm wide, and--" He circled his pointer finger around her opening before drawing it up to tease at her clit and she spasmed. "You'll have to stretch to fit all of me inside you."

xxx

"Oh." She'd been so wrapped up in admiring his cheekbones that she'd conveniently forgotten that there could be pain involved. "Yes, please."   
  
Clarke bit her lip as Bellamy gently rubbed at her clit, creating some more moisture between her thighs before pressing one finger slowly inside her. It felt good yet uncomfortable all at the same time. Then he wiggled it a fraction and a small jolt ran up her spine.   
  
"Stay right here with me," he murmured before kissing her again.   
  
She cupped his jaw and held him to her, luxuriating in the stretch of his hot body against hers. She could feel his warmth straight through the thin material of her dress. He kissed her slowly, steadily adding more pressure against her lips before rolling over her tongue with his own right as he slipped a second finger inside her. Clarke trembled, rising up off the mattress a few inches only to be pressed back down by the shoulder.   
  
"Do you trust me?" Bellamy whispered into her ear as she balked.   
  
"Yeah," she moved her chin up and down, watching the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.   
  
"Then relax."  
  
Clarke couldn't help the moan that escaped her lips when Bellamy popped her bra open through the fabric somehow. He tugged at the front of her dress until one breast came spilling out, and he covered the nipple with his mouth, pulling up the blankets higher around them to block the nosiest ones with the longest necks. Clarke pulsed when his dry fingers pressed back over her belly and pubic bone before they burrowed under her hem and resumed stroking her to arousal.   
  
"How does she feel, Blake? You think you'll fit?" came a drunk cry.   
  
But he ignored it, returning to kiss her. She panted from the adrenaline of it all, huffing against his cheek when they stopped.   
  
"You're beautiful, you know."   
  
Her knees clenched around his hips, the urge to touch him in turn was becoming too much. Bellamy's eyes were so deep like this while his bangs fell in front of them. She could get lost in them, a spaceship swallowed up by the impossibility of space.   
  
"Let me touch you too."   
  
Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her.   
  
"Sure, if you want."   
  
"I want."   
  
Together, they wriggled his boxers down toward the bottom of the bed without exposing themselves to the leering Alphas. The music shifted to something by Rihanna she didn't know the name of. The underwire of her bra dug into her breast uncomfortably and she was starting to perspire between the blankets and Bellamy on top of her. But then he guided her little hand to the smooth heat of him. The back of her hand felt the scratchy curl of his public hair and her throat went dry when she realized she couldn't fit her whole hand around the width of him. Bellamy shifted to his side, bearing his weight on his hip and effectively shielding her from where most of the people were gathered on the door side of the room.   
  
"Like this," he showed her, moving their hands together slowly and then faster, faster, faster.   
  
His eyes were locked on hers, and it was overwhelming in its raw vulnerability. Clarke stared down at the pink head of his cock instead, wondering how it would feel when it split her open. She feared it and ached for it all at the same time. She felt the tenseness in him the longer it went on.   
  
"No one told you to give him a hand job, Clarke," she heard Anya from a great distance. "We said let him fuck you."   
  
They didn't know. None of them knew she needed the time to prepare. Bellamy rolled his eyes, and she almost laughed. He winked at her and mouthed, "Feels so good, Princess." She took pride in that. Finally he batted her hand away and positioned his thigh right up against her pussy. "Grind on it for a second, baby," he urged, reaching up for a condom.   
  
Her heart skipped a beat, maybe two when she heard the crinkle of the wrapper. She pressed her clit into him hungrily, a little desperate, knowing that an orgasm on her part would make this all feel better. Bellamy slid on the condom and moved back on top of her, kissing her hard and messy as she pushed her breast into his palm, where he took extra time to pluck at her nipple. One final time, he slid his hand down her body, and this time she yelped when three of his fingers fought their way into her. Clarke clawed at his back, but he just pressed into her hypersensitive numb with his thumb, again and again and again until she felt the rush through her blood, the intense clench deep in her stomach and the spasm of her wet walls around his fingers.   
  
"Here we go. Nice and easy."   
  
His fingers were replaced by the head of his cock. Clarke rolled her neck up and looked at the ceiling when he pushed into her for the first time. It was a stretch, but better than it could have been. Their audience cheered as he penetrated her. She felt hot, overwhelmed, desperate when he pushed in a little farther, and a tear fell from the corner of her eye. Bellamy frowned, pausing and it almost made it worse, him so rooted inside her, pinning her to the bed. He dropped lower to kiss the wet spot under her eye.   
  
"We can stop," he murmured just for her.   
  
"No," she dug her fingers into his muscled arms.   
  
She raised her hips and he moved farther inside her channel and she did yelp then.   
  
"How's it feel, Griffin?" It might have been Raven. "Is he as big as the rumors say?"   
  
"Ok, ok," he soothed, stroking her side with one hand while his other held her more open for him at her hip. "I'll do it all at once, like ripping off a bandaid."   
  
It sounded like a terrible idea but it's not like she knew what to offer up instead. Bellamy let his cock retreat even though her pussy clung to him. Clarke heaved out a big breath but that was all she had time for before he'd thrust fully back into her, tearing her open and seating himself fully inside. She felt his balls slap into her ass and flushed tomato red.   
  
"Jesus, you're big," she moaned.   
  
"Did I hurt you?"   
  
"I'll be fine... might not be able to walk tomorrow, but fine."   
  
He chuckled darkly.   
  
"You took my whole cock, Princess. Look at you, so perfect. Let me make it up to you."   
  
The intense pressure and fullness subsided when he withdrew and felt a little better on the second stroke of his cock. Somehow her walls felt each vein and bump of him even through the latex. Clarke grabbed him by the neck as pumped into her the third time, trying to grind her pelvis into his and simultaneously claim his mouth. Bellamy obliged, breathing harshly before covering her lips with his. She felt consumed by him in the best way even though this was nothing like she'd ever thought it would be.   
  
When he retracted his hips she felt her own wetness, heard the sound of it squelching and was immediately mortified. All those white sheets. Bellamy glanced down between their undulating bodies briefly and then shushed her, pushing back inside. "Just means I got here first, and I'm not complaining."   
  
Clarke let herself get lost in the rhythm of it after that. She pushed back against him, accepting him deeper and deeper into her body until he bottomed out fully once more. She clenched around him then, eyes opening wide like sand dollars, imploring him. The pressure was so great. It felt like broken glass though and between the cut pieces lay her pleasure.   
  
"What do you need?" He stroked at her clit then gripped a breast through her dress. "Huh? What?"   
  
"More. I think. Harder? Maybe."   
  
He pulled her thighs up around his waist and braced over her body more sturdily. When he fucked into her this time, his eyes never left hers. He increased the pace stroke by stroke until he was pistoning in and out of her almost harshly. The tension in her core reached the breaking point.  
  
"Bellamy!" she yelled his name as she orgasmed, shivering as her pussy spasmed repeatedly around his thick cock.   
  
"Good girl. You did so good. Just hold on a little longer for me."   
  
Her limbs felt heavy and fuzzy. Her cunt was so oversensitive, but she couldn't tell him no. The boys were hollering and yelling and Bellamy's mouth found her neck and sucked a careful pattern while his hips moved against her in a slower, more sensual rhythm for a short while like he was helping her through it.   
  
"Go on," she said finally into the slick of his shoulder. All the air under him was humid like July. His musk surrounded her but she drank it in. Clarke kicked her heel against the back of his thigh. "Fuck me hard the way you want to."   
  
He growled, and she felt a fresh surge of wetness coat her pussy. It only took a few more thrusts before he was pulsing inside her and collapsing against her small body before rolling onto his side.   
  
The applause was tremendous.  
  
"What a show, you two! What a show!" Murphy was crying out. "Truly. Bravo!" He clapped slow and hard over his head.   
  
Clarke hid her face against Bellamy's chest, and he pulled up the blankets around her shoulders so only her loose blonde hair was visible.   
  
Bellamy kissed the top of her head and she was glad he couldn't see her face.   
  
Anya came forward and stopped near Bellamy's hip halfway up the bed. She cleared her throat to get their attention. Clarke was unsure her heart rate would ever return to normal.   
  
"Congratulations, Clarke. You're officially a Kappa. I'll, umm, give you guys a few minutes and then we'll meet you downstairs."   
  
Over Anya's shoulder, Clarke saw Echo's annoyed expression.   
  
"You heard her!" Echo snapped. "Everybody get the hell out!"   
  
The boys groaned and argued, but the girls helped push them through the door. Suddenly, it was only her and Bellamy. He'd sat up now, leaning against the headboard.   
  
"I wish I had a cigarette," he commented. She half-laughed.   
  
"I'm sorry if I wasn't that great at it," she mumbled. "But thanks for coming to my rescue like that. My mother has wanted me to be a Kappa since I was in diapers."   
  
He rolled his lips over his teeth. "Yeah, I know. You're welcome. And, uh," he scratched the back of his neck. "It wasn't, you know, a burden or anything."   
  
"I guess sex is sex for guys, huh? More is always better," Clarke teased. Bellamy ducked his head, apparently unwilling to answer. This transaction was over - she had to face the facts. She didn't have a claim on him. But then she was distracted by the blood that was probably below her and cringed. "I hate that I made a mess."   
  
He stood up and reached for his boxers, pulling them on swiftly. She heard something land in the nearby trash.   
  
"I can help with that if you want," he said casually.   
  
She blinked at him.   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"I mean I've got a shower at my place, two actually. Miller will be staying with Jackson anyway." He shrugged, saying it all with his back to her as he pulled on his pants.   
  
Very tentative hope coursed through Clarke. Slowly, she kicked back the covers and manuevered her feet over the side of the bed, rising slowly. She was rewarded by a true and present ache between her legs.   
  
"Bellamy?" She readjusted her dress, reaching back to snap her bra into place.   
  
Her panties were in a ball near the foot of the bed, and she grabbed for those too, sliding them on hastily.   
  
He turned around, hands deep in his pockets as she stood back up.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"You know I'm really into saving the environment."   
  
He smiled brightly at her and held out his hand.


End file.
